


West Coast

by awkwardedgeworth



Series: Call Out My Name [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: American Things, Gen, wherein seung-gil trained in cali in his teens and meets the trainwreck that is jj leroy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-18 19:26:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18125468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardedgeworth/pseuds/awkwardedgeworth
Summary: Seung-gil feels a tightness in his chest, choosing to look away from Otabek, who looks more Californian with his darker complexion and t-shirt, more fit in. The skin around his elbows is a nasty green-blue dimpled with speckles of dull yellow, and even that for some reason, fits in more with their surroundings than him.





	West Coast

**Author's Note:**

> im convinced that lana del rey and the weeknd cured me from my writing slump/quarter life crisis. when i saw the tweet that jj and seung-gil would have trained with each other from kubo (the tweet was something along those lines), i thought, gee, wouldn't that be a good fic to write?
> 
> life is looking up. im looking to move back to my home town, so im crossing my fingers that i get hired at one of the hospitals there so i can move
> 
> not beta'd

The reality is that if you want to be good enough in senior to make heads turn, one has to go to another country— with good training facilities and coaches, preferably— to start placing in competitions.

Seung-gil was sitting in the car after he won his first medal (a gold, nothing less, nothing more) when the street lights above whizzed above his head, sparking the thought. He knew that one day he would go abroad, to a greener land with foreign food and a new tongue below his belt. He saw the countdown in medals he won. Each one inched him closer and closer to the inevitable.

He only brings two large luggages with him and a backpack. He says goodbye to his family at the airport (Appa had been absent, as always), and steps inside the plane, the last view of his home obstructed by rain and darkness. Seoul becomes a spray of lights beneath him, and soon enough, he sees clouds.

When he settles in the bedroom provided by his host, he breaks out the first of the sweets he smuggled, hating the dry heat, little dust clouds that kicked up whenever he walked, sunlight, palm trees and perfectly trimmed front lawns of California. The water tastes different, the food portions larger, the air drier, the flora strange. Everything is either too bright and saturated with colours or covered with a fine layer of dust.

Seung-gil goes to sleep dreaming of frigid winters and sweet potato carts.

 

He wakes up to a full face of sunshine, and releases his hold on his long sleeves reluctantly when picking out what to wear. Frank nods to his footwork, introduces him to his other students who are around the same age as him, and tells him that he'll meet him back on the ice after school.

Kazakhstan's top junior male shares a few senior level classes with him, when prompted by Frank to recite his schedule. He stands in all black training clothes, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, looking like he's a sentence away from murdering someone. That might be because the sun's reflection is hitting him in the face, defining the slight acne dotting his forehead and chin, Seung-gil decides. There's another very young boy nearby representing China, at least an entire head shorter than him.

His classmates give him their full attention for two seconds. Once finding out that he's one of the many figure skaters in the valley, they snicker about his sport or nod to themselves before turn their attention elsewhere. Seung-gil pretends that their jeers and smirks bounce off his skin.

"Isn't that sport for girls?" One hollers, "You gonna give us a pirouette?" The teacher shushes the student before Seung-gil could fully process the sentence in his head.

He spends all class time staring at the profanities carved into the wooden table, looking at the smudge pencil marks and food residues. He firmly tells himself that his stomach is churning from whatever disgrace they serve for lunch in the cafeteria, and definitely not from the nerves of being half-way around the world away from his home.

"Let's go," Otabek says, hefting his heavy practice bag, the strap digging into his still thin shoulders, and hiking his slouchy school bag on the other shoulder. Seung-gil has no choice but to follow him, frowning against the sun.

Outside, standing next to several hockey kids also going to a the rink, Seung-gil feels a tightness in his chest, choosing to look away from Otabek, who looks more Californian with his darker complexion and t-shirt, more fit in. The skin around his elbows is a nasty green-blue dimpled with speckles of dull yellow, and even that for some reason, fits in more with their surroundings than him.

They wait outside under the shelter of the building until he sees the car Otabek's host mother drives pull around the parking lot. It's an ancient thing with windows that needed to be manually rolled down and a glove compartment that wouldn't close properly, he found out when he sat there several hours ago after morning practice, listening to the compartment flap squeak and slap against Otabek's knees.

Umma: remember to make friends on your first day. it's easier to do when you're the new person  
Umma: dont forget to drink water  
Umma: and sunscreen. it's very sunny there, isn't it?

Otabek meets his eyes from the side mirror. His eyes are deep set, mouth turned down in a stern line, but he didn't look angry. Rather, he looked like he knew exactly what's going through Seung-gil's mind as he re-reads the messages Umma had sent him the night before.

"My favorite subject is math."

"I hate it, I like sciences better."

Otabek looks curious now, "What subject?"

"Physics," Seung-gil replies, feeling the wind wick the sweat that has accumulated on his forehead during the awkward silence in the parking lot. Then, he adds, not sure why he's opening his mouth again, "I don't really hate it, but it's not exciting to me." He hopes that Otabek understands his lack of will power to stay awake during senior level calculus that afternoon was due to his mastery in high school math, and not the fact that Seung-gil found him a very boring seat mate.

Rather, one part of him was glad that they share a few classes together: two figure-skaters in a sea of football-playing, cheer-leading, extroverted student body is comforting. He idly wonders if playing football and cheer-leading are another American Thing like how he will avoid lunches from the cafeteria from now on.

Otabek nods while his host mother chimes in, a very pretty lady with a mole on her right cheek. Her hospital ID is clipped onto the slot for sunglasses, "I felt the same way about math. I liked it well enough when I was learning it, but never got excited when I actually had to complete my homework."

Her host son flashes her a quick grin. Seung-gil blinks; he's never seen Otabek smile before in competition or the official photographs that he'd looked through during his very lonesome lunch in the stairwell meant for fire drills and emergency exits. There's a lilt to his tone, "You never even took university level math."

The host mom said a retort too fast in English for Seung-gil to understand with a teasing smile.

His phone buzzes silently in his hand. His oldest sister is telling him not to be too cynical. He ignores her.

"You should come over for dinner, Seung-gil," She says, meeting his eyes for a brief second in the mirror before she focuses on the road again, "If that's alright with Miles, of course. We'd love to have you over, you can stay for the night whenever you ever feel like it. Oh, where are my manners?" Otabek's mouth twitches up, "Should I call you Seung-gil? Or do you prefer your English name?"

He sees the rink just in front of them. Her voice this time is slower, she knows Seung-gil's brain haven't adjusted to the rapid fire of her native tongue most likely, "You can say no if you want."

"No," He quickly says, "No, that'd be...nice." Miles is rarely home due to court cases, though he keeps the fridge well stocked and large house clean and air-conditioned. Everything he says sounds rehearsed and lame, like he's an imposter. But he is, isn't he? Before he'll know it, he'll be Americanized, wearing shorts and t-shirts, soaking up the sun in its full warm glory like the entire state of California is doing. Seung-gil finally recalls the name that Otabek whispered just before they walked over to the car. "Thank you, Carol."

She smiles, the skin near her eyes crinkling. She may be fifteen years younger than his Umma, but he doesn't feel so home sick anymore, "Alright, we'll talk more about it when I pick you boys up. Have a good one!"

Seung-gil hoists his practice bag over his shoulder and waves, watching Carol stick her left arm out of the window to salute, the sun gleaming off the puddle ahead of the car.

It's still too bright, he frowns against the glare.

Dark.

"Keep the cap until you buy one," Otabek is walking away from him, a tube of yogurt dangling from his mouth as his hands rip open a plastic baggie full of apple quarters, the sides of the bag dripping with condensation where it had sat in the sun during Calculus. Seung-gil wanted to ask him how he kept his identity while living here, but his throat is too dry. Otabek slides the tube out of his mouth, turning back to him, "The constant sun took me time getting used to."

 

New Number: carol says she's making fettucini alfredo this friday. you're not allergic to dairy right?  
Me: lactose intolerant  
New Number: that's fine, she's making a dairy-free version for her husband. i'll let her know  
Me: thank you  
-New Contact Saved-  
Otabek: np

 

Seung-gil puts down his cellphone, curling his slipper-clad toes, sitting back on the ergonomic chair. He hears Miles unlock the front door, Pess perking up from where she's gnawing on a bone near his feet. She wiggles out, shooting out of his room and making her way down the stairs.

"Hello," Seung-gil calls from the banisters. Miles finishes scratching Pess around her ears, looking tired and not tired at the same time. It felt weird to be on good terms with a parental figure, even if Miles's schedule is more hectic and he's not home like most home-stay parents are after work hours.

"Good first day?"

"It was alright," He wanted to ask if overwhelming foreign hospitality, cheer-leading, hockey, football, two block haircuts, Post Malone, intentional food poisoning and Supreme fashion wear was an American Thing, but Miles looked like the type of child who had been sent abroad for schooling.

Miles takes off his Oxfords and heads to the kitchen, Pess following eagerly, toenails clicking happily on the polished hardwood. Seung-gil eats a quiet dinner that has been microwaved, speaks briefly about his classes and asks Miles if his day was good all the while sitting on a plush dining chair. He picks through the vegetables a little sullenly, suddenly missing the way he could throw one leg up on the chair while eating with his Umma and sisters. Miles would probably have a heart attack if he does that.

"I'll be over at a rinkmate's house on Friday for dinner."

Instant relief is visible, "Oh, that's good timing. I have a work dinner that might run late. Is it at Carol's?"

"Yes."

Miles nods to himself, glasses fogged up by the bowl of noodle soup they're slurping. "Nice family. Text if you need a ride home."

"Will do."

 

Umma panics about the lack of sunscreen usage in California by almost everyone but Seung-gil, and sends him a fairly sized package full of them to be shared. Seung-gil had only offered them to Miles, Carol, her husband and Otabek so far, since he hadn't said a word to the other skaters in the club, and Otabek agreed with him that starting a friendship by offering sunscreen isn't what other kids usually do.

"Not that our conversation was any different," Otabek skates, doing crossovers as Seung-gil follows closely, doing footwork. Over by the boards, Frank looks pleased that they're getting along well. Seung-gil doesn't know why it's so important to make friends in a rink full of his current and future competitors, but having Otabek around isn't so bad.

"You're the only tolerable one here."

"Am I?" Otabek looks amused, which is a lessening of his resting murder face by one degree. Seung-gil has categorized them in his head now. Though the childish fat on his cheeks remain, Seung-gil decides that he would be quite the looker in a few years. A few girls on the other end of the rink are taking videos of practice jumps to be posted on social media, though he doubts that because two of them are pointing their phones in Otabek's general direction instead. "That's nice to hear."

One of the girls squeal when Otabek smiles, before yelling in surprise when her coach descends on her like a vulture. Seung-gil hopes she gets a sunburn, and skates off to Frank where he's standing at one end of the rink with a clipboard in his hand.

The other skater from China around their age joins in after ending a video call with another familiar looking USA skater with chin length brown hair. Seung-gil doesn't remember his name, but he caught him attempting to dance to a BTS song in an empty change room once after a medal ceremony.

Frank sizes them up, "So," He begins, looking down and pursing his lips, "To make room for Homecoming, we'll have to re-arrange the schedule for next week—"

"Homecoming?"

Guang Hong and Otabek stare at him, then Guang Hong shoots Otabek an almost accusatory look while Frank looks surprised.

"Do you not know what Homecoming is?"

"It's a school dance thing," Otabek jumps in to explain, "Attendance not mandatory, but Frank will let us have the evening off if we do go."

"Ah," Seung-gil nods, "Then you don't need to worry about me, I won't be going."

They could hear a pin drop on the ice if it weren't for the nearby girls. Frank blinks, "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Guang Hong looks as if Seung-gil had told him that red packets will be banned starting the new Lunar New Year, and several of the girls nearby are gawking unprofessionally. Somewhere in Seoul, Seung-gil can feel his sisters face-palm.

Otabek considers this for a few seconds, before also saying that he won't go, and a loud cry from the huddle of girls confirms Seung-gil's suspicions that Otabek is oblivious to his popularity amongst the opposite sex and that now one of the girls could possibly end up date-less.

"We both can come in for practice if you're available," Seung-gil could barely think of missing practice when the skating season is well underway now that they're in September, not that it shows because it still feels like his skin will melt off his body whenever he steps outside for a jog in the afternoon. "And work with Cathy."

"That will do, extra space for jumping practice won't hurt either since the rink will be emptier. I'll have to ask Cathy or one of the other choreographers if they're free to take you on, but I think this is a good idea," Frank looks up, grizzled, blue eyes scanning through Seung-gil as if he's trying to find something, "But do tell if you change your mind."

Seung-gil chirps a promise, and then skates off to warm up his legs, starting from singles and working his way up to his quad combos. He didn't move to California to attend dances. He came here to prove something.

 

"Carol was wondering if you would spend Thanksgiving over at her house," It's the weekend, and Seung-gil had just finished his morning exercise with Pess. It included walking around the complex twice, before stopping at the nearby park and allowing her to roll on the grass while he does suicide runs with the small cones he brought in a drawstring bag.

Miles has his active cases filed out on the dining table and several chairs, wearing a dress shirt and pants as if he's going to the courtroom later. Seung-gil wonders if he's ever heard of sweatpants.

There's a detective in the kitchen helping himself to a Cuban sandwich. Like Otabek, he knows that Miles is probably annoyed at the dust the detective tracked in, but doesn't seem all too angry by the lack of wrinkle between his eyebrows.

"If that's okay with you," He goes to the bar cart and tops up his water bottle.

"It is, I'll be away for most of the day.... Might do late dinner with Wright...." Miles scratches his head and frowns, jotting something. "Gumshoe!"

The detective in the kitchen immediately puts down his sandwich, smacks his hands to remove crumbs above the sink and salutes even though Miles isn't looking up, booming, "Coming Mister Edgeworth sir!"

Seung-gil doesn't know who Wright is, but leaves it at that and slinks out of the dining room quietly, going back to his room and starting the large pile of English he's been putting off. There's some vocabulary worksheets, two short stories he has to write a paragraph or two about, and six chapters of a book they're reading in class that he missed out on since he was in Czech Republic.

He hears the click of nails on the hardwood, Pess blinking warmly at him, a ball in her mouth. She wags her tail as he looks between her and his homework.

"Let's go in the backyard, girl!"

Pess barks.

 

Seung-gil sent a picture  
Ji-eun: !! so much food??  
Seung-gil: can't move  
Ji-eun: your coach is going to kill you  
Ji-eun: umma says hello  
Seung-gil: im taking otabek down with me then  
Seung-gil: tell her i said hi

 

Otabek heads off to Slovania for a few days, but Carol still picks Seung-gil up from school and sits happily in the bumper-to-bumper traffic to drop him off at the rink, brushing off his concerns that he could take a bus. He doesn't understand why she would sweat in her car, swearing at other idiots on the freeway, while her main priority is off winning a medal in another country. He pulls his phone out and texts his sisters, wondering if this is an American Thing.

"Nonsense! The bus doesn't drop you off directly in the front, and you have to carry heavy bags," Seung-gil opens his mouth to speak but she shakes her head from inside the car, still leaning over the console to peer out the passenger window, "Don't worry about it, it's lonesome without Otabek around and I am a host mother, so I still have some responsibilities."

"Um, thank you," He awkwardly says, wearing his new South Korea jersey that was sent by the federation back home. Her car is two-toned, the top nice and white while the bottom is beige due to the accumulation of dirt. It never rains in California.

"I'm picking Otabek up from the airport tonight, would you like to tag along? We can get burgers and fries afterwards, and I'll call Miles to let him know that he won't have to pick you up."

Carol's smile is infectious, "Okay."

When he leaves practice with two new bruises on top of his existing bruises, an appetite that can rival a bear, and lots of homework in his school bag, he hops into Carol's car and says hello to her husband. Carol speeds onto the HOV lane and floors it, laughing as she and her husband sing along to some hit song that played during their post-secondary years. Seung-gil smiles in the dark backseat, peering into the dusk as they drive into LAX.

Otabek shoots him a grin when he realizes Seung-gil had came along. He sets his bags in the trunk and rolls down the windows, sticking his right elbow out and raising a brow, "Fancy seeing you outside."

"Ha ha," Seung-gil swats him on the arm as they drive into one of the many In-N-Out joints. There's a jostle to see the online menu on Carol's phone, and she soon is walking back with their order piled on a tray.

"Congratz on the bronze," He says, licking his thumb where the animal sauce was. The parental unit are lost in their own world in the front, singing along to Lana's Money Power Glory, swaying. He picks up a tiny piece of fry that had fallen off onto the upholstery, glad that it only had salt.

Otabek starts on his third burger, ignoring the childishness of his host parents. "Thanks, it was fun. I took pictures. You've never been there, have you?"

"No, never got Slovania as my assignment," The night, though chilly for natives, is the perfect weather. Seung-gil licks the salt left on his bottom lip, peering out like Otabek had done on the freeway and seeing the trees sway, casting shadows on the asphalt below, the moon clear. The lights from the nearby row of neon palm trees turns his hand magenta. Much of the humidity had dropped that he actually feels goose bumps forming, sticking his arm further into the wind.

"Don't butcher it," Otabek says to the front.

Seung-gil finds out a moment later what he means when he hears Carol hit a high note, head turned back as the light coming from In-N-Out illuminating the wedding band strung around her neck, lips wide in a smile. He looks to the husband, who watches her with clear adoration in his eyes.

 

Miles flies out with him to Lake Placid, conversing to Frank as they sit in business class. Seung-gil is cramming in some last minute senior level biology homework just so he doesn't need to look at it when he comes back to California, stomach gripping against the plane wobbling in the sky. He could tell that Miles was worried about his state by the amount of Imodium, Gravol, ibuprofen and acetominophen shoved into his lap when they land.

Seung-gil accepts some lemonade tea from a vending machine, weakly sipping it as his stomach continues to roll enthusiastically, trying to school his face into its usual expression. Frank is having kittens in the passengers seat, trying to gauge how far they have to their hotel in the traffic.

"You didn't need to come," Seung-gil says as Frank leaves to go shower. Whatever Miles had given to him in the taxi worked, his stomach is calm again.

Miles had decided to bunk with him so Seung-gil had his own room, claiming that it's good to have his own space before competitions and that he didn't mind sharing. He gives a dubious stare to the expensive cuff links laying out on Miles's desk, next to his equally expensive watch and suit jacket that gets a pampering at the dry cleaner's every month.

"I don't mind, I never went to one of my host kid's competitions anyway," He takes a sip of wine, swirling it before tipping his head back slightly for more. He pulls his reading glasses out of the breast pocket on the white fluffy bathrobe, squinting at the label on the bottle. Seung-gil is already dressed in his pyjamas, a thin shirt and sweatpants with S. KOREA running down the pant legs, "Good luck tomorrow, we'll be cheering for you."

Seung-gil bundles his feet into two layers of socks, turns down the heating in the room, and rolls around until he has sufficiently cocoon himself, knocking out until his alarm rings sleepily. Then it was a rush of brushing his teeth, slapping moisturizer, BB cream and sunscreen on his face, going back to his room when Cathy tosses a bottle of concealer to him, eating whatever Frank dumped on his plate, and shedding his jersey and taking center ice.

Miles and Frank decide to congratulate him by eating dinner at a modest, but expensive restaurant that has a dress code in the evenings. Seung-gil's hair is still stiff from the gel he worked into his hair, but the food was delicious, and when he sits back on the car ride to the hotel, Frank chatting to their Uber driver about someone named Crosby. He feels a curious lightness around his heart sitting next to Frank and Miles, both of them chatting amicably.

Umma sends him her well wishes when she finds out several hours after he lands back on Californian soil. He replies a short, thank you, not realizing it was in English, and slides into his seat just in time to see Otabek walk into Calculus, backpack and training bag slung over each shoulder like a bored pack mule.

Several of his older Calculus classmates, who now know that he's an athlete and the owner of one more gold medal, nod at him, and listen attentively when Seung-gil explains the concept of second derivatives. The cluster of kids sitting in the back of the class, who exude auras that they can't be bothered to open their text books, eventually migrate to peer around his and Otabek's shoulders.

A girl, with skin so tanned that he could imagine the females in his household cringing over, blinks, not realizing that over the day her mascara is building up beneath her brown eyes, "And what about proofs, do you know much about them?"

She waves a Kumon sheet to back up her question.

He's not sure how they spend their off day at the mall with them, Otabek a silent yet comforting presence next to his left elbow, sitting on a food court table that one of the girls had cleaned with baby wipes procured out of her purse. Kumon Girl is helping him with To Kill A Mockingbird, flipping through the pages and adding her comments in pastel coloured sticky notes as her twin brother edits Seung-gil's introductory paragraph. It was bizarre, but not unwelcome, in fact, he feels warm.

They get there by piling in Kumon Girl's car, and they leave the same way. He connects the dots the second time she tells them to duck their heads, and laughs when Seung-gil asks if what she's doing is legal.

"You're Prosecutor Edgeworth's host son?" She stares as they sit idling outside the large house with trimmed shrubbery, three-door garage and deck wrapping around the perimeter of the building.

"You know him?"

"Our parents work together," She says, leaning forward on the wheel. A piece of her hair snakes out of the loose bun, the blonde strand turning white. Her twin is texting in the passenger's seat, brim of his baseball cap tugged low, "Well, we might see you for the holiday parties then. Bye~ Fix those edits!"

 

They board an early flight out of LAX to YVR, where Frank makes a bee line to Tim Horton's the moment he sees one. Guang Hong and Otabek break their diets and opt for something sugary on their menu while Seung-gil blows off the steam from his tea, waiting for their car to arrive at the pick up lounge. It's raining, wet and cold, and Seung-gil smiles at the passing cars speeding away into the grey city.

"I'm going to see Leo after this for dinner, want to come?" Guang Hong chirps to Otabek, who had, once upon a time, been Leo's rink mate back in Colorado. Seung-gil finishes tying his laces and walks away, thinking of Cathy's latest adjustments in his program while humming his short program piece. "Hey! SEUNG-GIL!"

Guang Hong hops forward, one socked foot raised and the sneaker clad one keeping him upright on the rink mats, "The invitation extends to you too, you know." He looks like a hamster, Seung-gil inwardly thinks, soft and cheeks full with baby-fat.

"Sure," He hears himself say, breath fanning out into a small cloud. The Top 40 Hits are playing above. Otabek runs onto the ice and starts warming up by building speed around the perimeter, hands held behind his back as he crouches at the turns.

Guang Hong beams and joins Otabek.

 

Ji-eun: seung-gil got invited to a dinner with friends!!! I'm sobbing  
Seo-jung: omo  
Ji-eun: umma will be so proud  
Seung-gil: shut up  
Ji-eun: my cynical brother is growing up!!!

 

Before the dinner, they assemble in Guang Hong's and Leo's room with a box of dye and gloves. Seung-gil eyes the box with amusement, recalling the time his oldest sister screamed over her orange hair when she wanted copper.

Guang Hong expertly eyes the amount of developer needed to bleach his roots, wearing a black shirt with a small black towel clipped around his neck. Once his roots are bleached blond, there was a knock on the door.

"Hey, sup?" Leo wanders over to a rather short boy dressed in jeans and a red windbreaker. Guang Hong looks up from his Animal Crossing app on his phone, waiting for the dye to set as Otabek sits on the toilet with a graphing calculator and homework, ears covered with his noise-cancelling headphones. Seung-gil looks up and turns his attention back to The Great Gatsby, flipping another page.

Guang Hong's phone tinkles with the alarm. He stands in the bathtub, turns on the faucet and sticks his entire head into the spray, copper dye flooding the tub. Seung-gil adjusts his position on the bathtub's edge so his book doesn't fall into the water, as if one wrong move can make it disintegrate immediately, which considering that it's public property, could happen.

"This is JJ, Seung-gil," Leo announces, standing a good half a head taller, which meant that JJ would only be around Seung-gil's chin. His face looks familiar, but he must be pretty insignificant if Seung-gil doesn't have a memory of him other than another passing competitor. "He was in Slovakia with Otabek, if you saw that competition."

Seung-gil says a quick hello, and tosses Guang Hong his second towel when he blindly pats the edge, eyes still screwed shut.

"Fanks," Guang Hong says, voice muffled behind the cloth. His head emerges, roots copper, and he beams, "Let's get food!"

JJ, as the only Canadian competitor who made it to finals, offered to tour them around Vancouver, having landed from Pearson a day before them. They bundle themselves and set out into the darkness.

They end up in some downtown restaurant serving delicious comfort food in the form of fries, pizzas and burgers. Frank's warning of not eating too much carbs goes into one ear and out the other. For all his good intentions, Seung-gil wasn't going to grow if Frank kept waving his diet around meal times. And from the looks of it, none of the others are sticking to diets.

The booth they're stuck in is small, but he didn't mind it so much, pulling a slice of pizza and watching the cheese reluctantly part from the middle. He had double fisted some lactose pills well before hand, tossing the bottle to Guang Hong several seconds ago, who had forgotten his back in California.

"How's Cali treating you?" JJ asks, deafening and annoying but at least he hasn't dropped any crumbs onto Seung-gil's lap.

A shrug, "It's going." Otabek is unfortunately caught up with a conversation regarding music with Leo, Guang Hong sandwiched between them as he nibbles on his panini like a cute animal, one hand on the plate catching all the drips from the meat and sauce. The windows by the front of the restaurant are fogging up, a testament to how cold it's dropping outside. It feels closer to home, the water droplets racing down the glass with the gas lamps outside illuminating the cobblestone street with their soft glow.

Seung-gil blinks the flash out of his eyes, turning an accusatory look at JJ, who shoves his phone towards him.

"It's a good picture!"

It is a good picture. The harsh light only emphasizes the black of his hair and turtleneck, his forehead for once smooth and not raging a war by sprouting acne left and right. It's a good picture, that he can't deny, but he shoots the younger boy a scowl, "Give me a warning next time."

"The point of a candid is for the subject to not realize someone's taking a picture of them," JJ pulls his phone away from Seung-gil's face, the blue light glowing, "Anyway, tell me your Instagram so I can send it to you."

Seung-gil relents, and stuffs more triple meat combo pizza in his mouth while JJ is busy tapping away.

"...You have a dog?"

Seung-gil swallows slowly and turns his head where JJ's eyes has turned into shiny, glittering orbs. Across the booth, Leo is smiling in their direction, turning back to Otabek as he pulls a slice of pizza on his place.

"I have one too!" As if the world will fall apart if he didn't shove his phone quickly, JJ nearly breaks Seung-gil's nose, the blue light bright and showcasing a large Bernese Mountain Dog, mouth up in a smile, sitting next to JJ as they pose in front of a large tree in the middle of snow. "His name is Boof."

His sister's words forces him to pull out his phone, scrolling through pictures until he finds one of the most recent Monshi, still tiny and cute and barely 3 months old, gnawing on a bone. He had been salty when the family group chat exploded with pictures while he's stuck on the other side of the world, but he would go home soon during winter break to meet her.

Perhaps it was bravery or stupidity, but they all got ice cream afterwards and walked back to their hotel in the mist, feeling the chill in their extremities and mouth. Seung-gil is holding his cup, glancing upwards at the heavy clouds, wishing that it would start raining again.

Before he goes to bed, JJ sends him a picture, another candid shot. It was him, looking up, with one of the famous Gastown lamps illuminating his back, steam clock puffing away.The saturation and contrast had been edited, but it was carefully done that he didn't notice at first until he saw how his dark clothes blended into the background.

Seung-gil: stop taking pictures of me  
JJ: (peace sign)  
JJ: no need to thank me

By breakfast, two more competitors arrive.

Guang Hong drags Leo over to a Thai skater. Seung-gil, yawning, makes himself a cup of tea and replies to Miles's good luck message. He then piles on some toast, steers clear of the crispy bacon that's calling his name, and eats his egg white omelette in a corner table facing the waterfront view. He finds the Japanese ace sitting nearby, staring at the tablecloth blankly until his coach finds him and pulls him away. As if cued, Frank taps his shoulder, and Seung-gil swallows the last remains of his egg and stands up.

 

They attend the official morning practice, stretch together afterwards, and bade their time until the short program starts. He skips the post-short-program festivities going on in Phichit's room, and goes to bed.

His phone buzzes nonstop, to which he silents, turning the screen face down and slowly counting backwards from 100. He sinks, head pillowed, breathing even, when his door gets rammed down.

"Are you insane?" He snarls, throwing it open and glaring at JJ, dressed in pyjamas that are obnoxiously emblazoned by the Montreal Canadiens. Behind him stood Otabek.

"I tried stopping him," He mumbles, voice quickly drowned out by JJ's exclamation about how they should go to the rooftops and spend some quality time together.

Seung-gil narrows his eyes further, calculating how much sleep he's going to get now that his full 8 hours are interrupted the longer he stands at his door, "The only quality time you'll get with me is when I push you into the pool."

"Aw don't be such a sourpuss," How can someone so short embody so much glee and selfishness? Seung-gil dully wonders, mourning as the last trace of sleepiness leaves his body. JJ bounces on his heels, feet clad in his runners. He's holding a water bottle and two bags of apple chips.

Just this once, he'll amuse JJ.

"What will your parents say if they find out you're not sleeping before a competition?" Otabek raises an eyebrow when Seung-gil takes his key card out of the wall slot, lights shutting off in his room. They make their way to the elevators, ascending to the roof and rolling up their pyjama bottoms.

Both he and Otabek shake their heads to decline the apple chips. JJ leans back on his hands, gently kicking his feet in the water, the sound echoing through the empty pool room. A little bit of the moon is peeking through the wall of glass behind them, the water refracting the light onto the opposite wall. JJ ignores that question.

"When are you going to move up?"

"When I feel ready," Otabek murmurs, gazing into the water. He's holding his phone in his hands, probably to visually tell JJ that he shouldn't be pushed into the pool unless he's willing to replace it. "I could say the same thing to you, JJ."

"My parents won't let me," JJ throws out one leg in frustration, water leaping high into the air and splashing on the opposite end of the kiddie pool. "Not good enough."

Otabek shrugs, "Probably wise to stay. Victor isn't going anywhere."

"I want to compete against him," JJ says, breathing in deeper. He resumes his gentle kicks in the water, hastily pulling on one leg of his pyjama pants before it absorbs water. "That's a possibility right? I don't want him to retire just yet."

"There's always news about him retiring. No one sees him during the off-season, people speculate, but he comes back in the end anyway," Seung-gil dryly says, wondering if he could sneak out without any of them noticing, not that Otabek would care much.

JJ lies on his back, his back cracking, "Ugh, and then there's this whole Olympics shebang next year. Are any of you chosen yet?"

Otabek, as the oldest (and in Seung-gil's humble opinion, the only good skater from his country) competitor in Kazakhstan, nods, grabbing several pieces of apple chips and letting his molars work, "I'm flying back in the new year to sort things out for a week."

Seung-gil hasn't heard anything from his federation, but it's possible that he might be picked as the only skater who meets the age requirement. From the sour look on JJ's face and the dark cloud settling over his expression, Canada had chosen their pick and he didn't make the cut.

"It's not fair."

He shares a look with Otabek, "There'll be more chances in the future. And who knows, Worlds this year might allow you to go."

JJ mutters darkly, "A likely chance if I can't advance to senior," He rolls to his stomach. "This sucks. I know I can land as top 15 in this Olympics. Who knows where I'll be four years from now? Look at Alexie! He was the Olympic favorite several years ago, then one accident with his ankle and his gold got stolen by Victor.... And...I don't know if I want to put in another four years to wait for the next Olympics."

Seung-gil stares into the water. Otabek halts his flutter kicking. The older they are, the higher the stakes. The longer they delay moving up, the slimmer the chance of beating their opponents. It was almost like an afternoon spent playing chess with Umma, she wasn't as good as him, but he knew that the longer he drew out their match, the slimmer his chances of taking her queen will be.

"You'll stay if you really want it."

It's Otabek who says that, eyes honest and his heart showing on his sleeve. Seung-gil turns away to hide the twitching of his mouth, watching JJ whip his head around. "I'll keep the podium warm for you."

JJ grins, then lightly splashes Otabek, "That'll be gold right?"

"Bronze," Otabek deadpans.

A mock gasp, and Seung-gil leans back on his hands, watching JJ attempt to drag Otabek into the pool. As he kicks JJ's hand away, Otabek splutters up to the surface, his cellphone thrown to Seung-gil a second before he was mercilessly tugged.

"You're next!" JJ gleefully yells, before his cell phone rings where it's sitting next to his apple chips. Otabek's buzzes furiously in his hand, and Seung-gil pulls out his phone from his pant pocket.

They all look at each other.

"Oh hell," He growls, helping Otabek out of the pool as they race to the elevators, shooting down several floors and trying to sprint to Otabek's room as quickly as they can.

JJ is running on his tip toes, eyes wide and mumbling how he's going to be dead meat when his parents find out. Leo doesn't blink when the three of them barge into Otabek's room, and instead, fling towels at JJ and Otabek before giving Seung-gil a game console. He randomly starts pressing buttons and pull deep breaths to control his breathing.

"Look normal!" JJ whimpers, hair sticking up from rubbing the towel on his face. Otabek rakes his hands through it, face pinched.

"You look normal!" Leo shoots back, taking his position of peering over Seung-gil's shoulders when there's a knock on the door.

"Coming," Otabek says loudly.

When the door opens, Frank suspiciously looks into the room, Miles and one of JJ's parents at his shoulders, "Boys, it's late."

Seung-gil returns Leo's game console and slides off the bed, following JJ to the doorway where his heart is beating too quickly, "Sorry, my phone was on silent."

Frank's blue eyes look like x-rays, "Hm," He only hums, turning to JJ's parent, "No harm done. They're all together."

Alain scowls at his son, who shrinks. Frank says goodnight to Otabek and Leo before closing the door. Miles purses his lips a little, but doesn't make a comment as they all walk a little further down the hall. The adults stride forward back to their rooms, leading with their longer legs as they turn a corner.

JJ finds Seung-gil's hand and squeezes. His hand is rough, several areas patchy from the lack of humidity during winter, but it's also clammy. Seung-gil turns slightly to shoot him a glare and pinches the skin around his ulna bone, but pats him on the head before he enters his room.

 

The next day, he wins a silver, Yuuri above him, blinking against some of the flash as they all step up on the tallest podium and pose with their flowers and medals. Otabek stands at the sides, clapping politely, mouth twisted with a mixture of frustration and happiness. Miles gets ushered by Frank to stand next to Seung-gil at the mouth of the rink, photos taken by a too excited JJ, their newest bronze medalist. His right shoulder is already seizing up, but he toughs it out as Miles hands JJ his phone, pulling Seung-gil closer and beaming.

They all change and sit to study the senior circuit, stuffing their faces with whatever snacks concessions are selling. Seung-gil takes notes of his future competitors, already formulating a plan to go into senior's next year. There's a hot muscle relaxant patch oozing warmth on his right side courtesy of Umma's care package; he peers sideways and watches Yuuri sitting a row above, holding a water bottle with a vacant expression, his bangs already falling down from the hold of his gel.

"Leaving?"

Otabek hands him a cup of Tim Horton's. Seung-gil takes it, sipping on the cream and calorie rich drink, "JJ made the wheels in my head spin. I think it's time for me to move on."

They both watch Chris skate onto the ice to a burst of screams and frantic flag-shaking, "Are you planning to stay in California or...?"

Seung-gil hums to himself, hands warmed by his drink, JJ and his parents on one side and Otabek to the other. He can see Frank pacing, a tiny figure next to the kiss-and-cry as his senior skaters await backstage.

"Going to miss me?"

Otabek shrugs, a wry smile on his mouth, "I will, you made school was more bearable. You understand me," He looks down at some of the fan girls, all their arms moving in unison to Chris's skating across the ice, "Or understand that silences don't need to be filled with conversation."

Seung-gil stares at the close runner up for today's bronze medal. He knew that if Otabek had practiced landing better, he would have beaten JJ. JJ, who had yawned all throughout morning practice and needed to be tugged away for some concealer action by Cathy when she walked past his mother fussing over him backstage several hours ago. It feels weird, the bubbly feeling in his gut as Otabek, in a very Otabek-fashion, tells him that he enjoys Seung-gil's company.

Not many people say that.

"I'm staying."

Otabek grins at him.

Carol's lilt surfaces, "I want money, and all of your power, and all your glory."

"Alleluia," Otabek sings under his breath, grinning, an octave lower from Lana's voice. Seung-gil thinks that he should have gone into choral music if it weren't for skating, "I wanna take you for all that you got."

Seung-gil looks on the ice to Chris bowing, waving his hands and scooping up a stuffed animal that has slid close to him, little girls skating around to grab the others, "...Alleluia, I wanna take them for all that they got."


End file.
